Judas
by AnnaW14
Summary: Raised by cruelty and hardened by betrayal, Jonathan (Jace) Morgenstern is not a man to be trifled with. Imagine his surprise when he is forced to return home to face the demons he left behind. War is on the horizon and blood will spill, decimating all in its path. Who will triumph, the liar or the killer?
1. Preface

Judas

Preface:

A Broken Note

Broken glass shredded through his skin, reopening old scars and carving new ones into flesh and bone. Blood dripped down his knuckles, painting a macabre portrait of memories long since forgotten. The mirrored glass chimed a death knell for the ages as it fell to the ground.

Jace cried out for what had to be the hundredth time, despair and disbelief coloring his voice. _How could this happen?_ He asked. _How could she do this?_

More importantly,

 _Why would I still care?_

These questions rattled around Jace's mind in a savage mockery of any semblance of control he had managed over the last ten years. Jace had been so sure he had recovered from the gaping wounds the _she_ had torn through his chest.

The worst part in all of this was the knowledge that despite all of his efforts, one mention of _her_ and all of Jace's well-built walls tumbled into dust. He could feel the physical rupture in his nerves: the all-encompassing rage that ate away at his insides.

It no longer mattered what he had accomplished in the ten years since he left, the images of that night ground into his skull, reverberating forever more. It didn't matter how powerful he was, how much money he made, how many people feared him. Everything went to waste, returned him to that pathetic little boy he had been when _she_ shredded his entire being, rearing through his soul like so much paper.

Storming from the room, Jace was glad to be entirely alone, unable to bare the thought of another witnessing his weakness. He allowed one more monstrous roar to pass through his grief stricken lips, voice cracking and tearing.

The boy-no-more stormed away, trashing the otherwise flawless home as he went, a storm leaving only savagery in its wake. From his hand slipped a note following the silence of a slammed door: crumpled and torn at the edges. In gold leaf and elegant script it read:

 _You are cordially invited to the wedding of_

 _Valentine Morgenstern_

 _Clarissa Fray_

 ** _AN: Hey Guys..._**

 ** _It's been a while (believe me I know). For those of you who may remember me, I used to publish Love Amongst Blood and a few other stories. I'm back with a new idea and a much healthier mindset, though this story is going to be very dark because that's what I want to write about. This story will certainly deal with darker themes like abuse, rape, drugs, and overall violence. I don't yet know how graphic it will be, so for now it is rated T._**

 ** _I don't yet know if I'll republish my old stories, but I am working on rewriting them. The most important thing for me is that I continue writing because I'm trying to write a book and need the practice. Criticism is welcome and I hope you all enjoy!_**


	2. Ch1 The Festivities Begin

Ch. 1

The Festivities Begin

Clary glared at the image of herself reflected in the mirror, ignoring the gentle tug along her scalp as Isabelle smoothed her hair into a twist. Vulnerable neck now exposed, green eyes zeroed on to the starburst emerald necklace that lay between Clary's breasts.

"At least it's pretty." Isabelle said, noting Clary's expression.

"It's monstrous." Clary ground out, much to her friend's amusement. "It's not even the worst of Valentine's gifts." She continued.

Isabelle tenderly reached for her friend's hand, her friend's _left_ hand, and examined the ring that dominated the delicate bones of Clary's slightly crooked ring finger. There rested a diamond, multifaceted and cut in the royal fashion. Once upon a time Clary had thought it to be the most beautiful ring she had ever seen, had loved it even, loved what it symbolized. Now that she knew its true weight, and what it had cost her to bare, she found the shine to be dulled, the wonder lost.

Absently, Clary stroked her fingers over the ring that once meant so much to her: The ring that shackled her to Valentine.

"Jace is going to be here." Clary heard herself whisper

"I know." Isabelle bent and kissed Clary's brow, gently wiping away a stray tear that threatened to spill down porcelain cheeks. "I know he will be here, and I know he'll bring Alec. The both of us know that Jace will be angry and volatile and prone to stupidity." Isabelle crouched by Clary's knees. "But we also know _him_. The real him. He's fragile and so, so vulnerable. Jace loved you Clary."

Clary flinched. "He hates me now."

"If there's anything left of the boy we knew then he still loves you. He can help you."

"Please don't say that. It'll break my heart if isn't true."

Isabelle clasped her friend's chin between perfectly painted nails. "Look at me." She said. "You don't give up now, not after all this time. We have a chance now and I'll be damned if I let you waste it."

The doorbell rang and Isabelle glanced up. "The guests are here. Let's have a look at you." She pulled Clary to her feet, made a few quick adjustments and then made the final reveal to Clary.

"You were always so good at this." Clary smiled at her friend. "Making me look beautiful."

"Don't give me too much credit. It's easy when you have a lovely canvas to begin with."

Clary did one last turn in the mirror, making sure all of the marks were concealed, whether by cleverly placed fabric or makeup. "Best not to keep my beloved waiting I suppose." She said with a forced humor. "Best get this over with."

Just as Clary was about to reach the door from her suit Isabelle called out to her. "It's best if you loosen your nerved a bit for tonight. Here," She poured two shots of whiskey from the crystal decanter on the wardrobe. "Valentine's finest Macallan."

Clary downed her drink in one gulp, cringing as the liquid set her throat to flames.

"$5,000 a bottle and it still tastes like shit. What a waste." Clary said at last.

The two girls choked out their laughter, wheezing in discomfort and clutching each other for strength.

"There'll be hell to pay for it later. Pity it wasn't worth it." Clary said.

"Hey!" Isabelle caught the smaller girl around the waste. "Valentine would have hurt you anyways. At least this way you know you wasted his money and booze first."

The pair stared at one another for a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles and stumbling out of the room. The night was only getting started and already Clary could feel dread pooling in her stomach.

Jace had yet to see the bitch that broke his heart tonight. _Thank fuck for colossal houses_. He thought, taking another swig of his drink. At this point, he honestly couldn't tell what he was drinking, only that it was very, _very_ potent. Jace allowed his gaze to travel the marble foyer of the home he grew up in, tracing the delicate veins of gold and silver that snaked through the stone so as not to dwell on the memories that lurked around every corner.

Here was the place his mother bandaged his knee after Jace ran too fast and slid on the wood. Here was the corner where he had wrestled with Alec over his first crush. Another room, another memory …more specifically the memory of sneaking around his father's office and kissing Clary for the first time.

Jace shook his head. Speaking of…Alec…where was the bastard? He had snuck off a half hour ago to find Isabelle and Jace was tired of havig to fight off his father's goons alone. Jace was feeling 'punchy' and the last thing he needed was to get in a drunken fistfight in a room full of gangsters and dealers at his father's _fucking_ engagement party.

Jace rounded the corner into the living room and froze. He would know that familiar shade of red anywhere. Clary.

Clary's back was to him but even still she drew Jace toward her. His eyes traced the familiar line of her body. What once was the slim and muscular physique of a dancer had softened, filled out in just the right places, creating an elegant curvature that followed from her calves to her waist, up her spine, and along her neck. Through clever cutouts of black silk, Clary's skin looked dove-soft and fragile to the touch. How Jace longed to trail his hands over her body, threading his fingers through tendrils of flame.

 _Fuck._ Jace thought. _She hasn't even looked at me and already I'm slobbering on the floor._ Jace immediately regretted his near constant drinking since the night began. Self control and a good lay was what he really needed. Just as Jace was preparing to make haste in the opposite direction a crash sounded behind him. All at once every set of eyes in the room turned towards the source of the sound, a poor waiter that would no doubt lose more than his job that night, save one.

Green met gold and the world ceased to spin. Jace felt the air syphoned from his lungs like a storm, building in pressure until he could breath no more.

"Jace?" The word, his name, escaped full lips, honey-sweet and with an air of desperation. It slung from her cupids bow like an arrow meant solely for him, piercing Jace's chest with the fury of a woman scorned. As if _She_ had a reason to be angry with him. As if _she_ were the one who'd had the heart ripped from her chest while it still beat, bloody in her hand. _No_. He thought. _She lost the right to anger when she got on her knees for the man she's now engaged to. The man I call father._

Resolve fully reinstated, Jace barely heard Clary turn to her companions, some group of men with hands bloodier then a butcher's, and slowly made her way over to him, white knuckling her wine glass. Jace would be lying if he said he didn't watch the way her hips swayed, hypnotic and full of poison, a fact only accentuated by the black pumps she wore.

 _The Devil is a woman and she wears black better than I do._

"Jace." Clary said. "It's good to see you."

"Considering the last time I saw you… and the position you were in… I can't say the feeling is mutual."

Clary flinched. Jace winced.

"Look," she started. "I just want to say-"

"There are some things that can't be defended, Clarissa. Your actions are among them."

"Jace, I really can't have this conversation here, but-"

"Then don't have it. It's easy. See?"

He could see frustration brewing in those eyes of hers. He knew he'd have to redirect the conversation.

"Jace please-"

"Dancing." He said. At her bewildered expression Jace continued. "Do you still dance?"

Caught off guard, Clary merely blinked at him. "Dance?"

"Yes. Ballet as I recall."

"I-No." She looked away as if in shame. "I stopped that a while ago."

"Shame. How else will you keep a tight ass for my father." Jace knew he was being a bastard, but right now he didn't particularly care, no matter how awkward and cruel.

"You're horrible."

 _There._ Jace thought. _At least she still has some fire in her._

Jace let his gaze wonder over her brazenly now, his anger brimming at the surface. He grinned down at her, liking the height difference between them. Even in heals she barely came up to his chin. He thought about all the fun he used to have with that small, lithe body.

Though it had only been a moment since they stopped talking it seemed to stretch into an eternity. That was when Jace noticed something flickering on Clary's hand. Clary's _left_ hand. The world seemed to slow as he focused on _That Fucking Ring._ Cold fury spread through his bones, setting his very core aflame with grief and longing.

"Jace?" Clary was saying.

Faster than he could blink Jace grabbed Clary's wrist, wrapping his long pianist fingers around the bird bones that belonged to the woman he once loved.

"Jace you're hurting me." He could hear fear creeping into her voice with a razor's edge.

"Why are you wearing my mother's ring, Clarissa?"

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Didn't mean what exactly?" Jace reached for her hand, ignoring the flickering of sorrow in her eyes. Grief, soul deep sadness seemed to well up, but what did she have to be sad about?

Jace's fingers had barely touched the stone, barely had the time to yank his mother's ring from this wretched whore's hand, when a familiar baritone sounded from behind.

"I'll have you unhand my fiancé, Jonathan. That ring is exactly where it belongs."

"Father." Jace greeted, eyes not leaving the object that had caused so much harm in so little time. He could feel Clary's racing heartbeat, fluttering at the pulse in point in her wrist as if in panic at his father's presence.

 _No._ He thought. _Desire._ _She used to react to me that way._

Looking at her features he could detect no such fear for his father, only remnants of the fear she had displayed for Jace's touch. _I scared her._ Despite how he tried to repress it, a wince of regret reverberated up his spine.

"It's good to see you my son." Valentine's form came into view as he gently pulled Clary into his side, dropping a quick kiss on her brow, arm wrapping protectively around her waist. Valentine gently grabbed Clary's wine glass, setting it on the table beside them. Despite being in his late 50's Valentine only seemed to grow in strength and power. His eternally white hair made him seem ageless, godlike, and he radiated authority. "I hear you've made quite a name for yourself on the west coast." Valentine grinned. "I'd expect nothing less of my blood."

Jace ground his teeth, forcing a smile, though it probably looked more like a sneer. "I didn't do it for you."

A booming laugh filled the hallways, drawing every eye in the room. "That's my boy." Valentine bumped Jace's shoulder. "Full of spirit." Turning away from his son, the giant of a man drew Clary with him. She cast one last glance back at Jace before vanishing ahead. Valentine paused at the threshold of the doorway. "I'm glad you could make it, Jonathan. We'll have to get together soon. Besides," He said, "We have all month before the wedding. Plenty of time to catch up."

Jace watched as the man that raised him vanished. Eyeing the lipstick stain on Clary's wine glass, Jace snatched it up, downing it in one go.

 _Where the fuck is Alec?_ He thought.

Later that night, Clary once again sat in front of her mirror, gently cleansing away the remnants of her makeup and removing the jewelry that decorated her body. Dark hollows appeared under her eyes, revealing remnants of Valentine's anger. She cautiously watched Valentine in the mirror, waiting for the moment his mood would shift from perfectly gallant to monstrously grotesque. She shivered at the way his arm had wrapped possessively around her waist earlier. Almost as if he knew she would try to get help from Jace.

Big doe eyes met fire-hardened steel as Valentine finally looked at her. He approached Clary from behind, resting a callused palm on the side of her neck, absently stroking the skin there and fingering the chain of the emerald necklace he had given her. Clary could hear the soft clink of ice as he swirled his whiskey in a glass.

"Were you drinking my whiskey?"

"Yes." There was no point in lying.

Valentine gave her a soft smile as he slowly, almost tenderly shifted the straps of Clary's black dress to the side, allowing the fabric to slip to the floor. Clary's eyes fluttered closed as she felt the whisper of silk as it fled her skin, leaving her exposed to the man she so despised.

A pitiful squeak slipped through her parted lips as the necklace was ripped from her chest, cutting into the sides of her neck and leaving small lines of blood in its wake.

"Oh Clarissa." Valentine said disapprovingly.

He smashed the crystal decanter into her side.

 **Hey Guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know your thoughts and theories!**


	3. Ch 2 Betrayals

Ch. 2

Betrayals

Warm light trickled over her lids, strawberry lashes fluttering in the grasp of her dreams, and delicate veins traced lace-like over fragile skin. Jace could stare at her all day and never lose interest. He loved the way her brows arched, structured and aristocratic, the way her berry lips pursed in the peaks of pleasure. Jace loved the freckles that dusted over her cheeks like sugar, continuing down her graceful neck to kiss her breasts. Even Clary's thighs, strong and slim as they were, held their own smattering of freckles. Every bit of her porcelain skin was graced with the tawny speckles that Jace so adored.

More than anything, Jace loved the intelligence that raged like an inferno within the girl made manifest in the flaming curls that crowned her head. He loved the untamable temper and quiet strength that she radiated.

Mostly, Jace realized, he just loved Clary.

Clary, that small, perfect creature that rested so perfectly in his arms. Her bare skin pressed to his, breath caressing his face. Jace bent his head, pressing feather-light kisses to her ear, her neck, and finally the canyon between her collarbones. Clary stirred in her sleep, a crease forming between her brows and a grown slipping between her lips.

"Brute. Why'd you wake me up?" Her voice was hushed, still deep in the throws of sleep.

"I missed you." Jace confessed

 _Hmmmmm_. Clary hummed, turning over and sliding one slender leg between his. Jace hissed, feeling the wetness between her thighs.

"Is that for me?" He asked, very pleased with the turn of events.

"Who else?" Clary whispered, grazing her nails over his back, teeth nipping at his throat.

 _Who else?_ A voice hissed, jarring Jace from this peace.

 _Who else?_ _Who else? Who else? Who else? Who else? Who else? Who else? Who else?_

Jace sat upright in bad, back soaked through with sweat and heart pounding in his ears. His legs were twisted in his sheets, hands clawing for a grip, seeking to hurt and break and bend. Jace needed to ground himself before he did something stupid…like thin about Clary.

And wasn't that the worst of it? It didn't matter that what she'd done. It didn't matter how much time had passed. It didn't even matter who Jace was now. Clary was still carved into his heart, each beat a fresh wound filled with longing.

Jace checked the time, groaning as he realized it was a measly 3:00 a.m.. _Fuck it._ He thought, standing up and throwing a shirt over his head. _If I'm going to be up I might as well make the most of it._

Jace stalked through the hotel, scowled down the elevator, and stomped through the hallway. He groaned as he encountered the locked door of the basement gym, wishing for the first time that he had stayed at his father's home. _That's a lie._ He thought. _Nothing could be worse than sleeping in the same house as Clary._ Slowly, Jace knelt down, thankful for the life of crime he lead that allowed him to easily pick the lock and slip through the door without setting off the alarm.

As Jace approached the punching bag he wrapped his knuckles in gauze, attempting to focus all of his energy to the task at hand as images of his dream flickered in the forelight. Jace let out a hushed breath and dream Clary mimicked him as though she were still a part of him, a part of his life. For a moment, Jace looked up at the vision before him, allowing the memory to come to fruition.

Jace remembered that day, God how he remembered it. The portions leaving football practice were blurry; the drive home all but lost to him. Then, everything snapped into focus.

 _Jace exited the car, slamming the door behind him. He grinned when he saw Clary's car, a small silver thing from the 90's that she refused to let him replace despite his concerns for its safety and overabundance of money. His heart swelled knowing that she would be waiting for him, waiting to listen to him complain about practice and rub the tension from his shoulders. Waiting to kiss the day away and tell him that everything would be all right. Jace had been sent home early for mouthing off and wasn't done cursing his coach to Hell._

 _He hurried up the front steps to the classical mansion flanked with Roman columns. Once inside, Jace paused to find all of the lights off. It seemed like no one was home, but if that was the case, where was Clary? A pit opened up inside him. Something was wrong. Very wrong._

 _At first, Jace was worried Clary had wondered off onto the property grounds. Maybe she was lost? She could be hurt. But that didn't seem to fit the bill._

 _Jace stilled, listening to the sounds of the house: the ancient creek to the grand staircase and the groan of the wooden support beams. There. He thought he heard something. Perhaps just a subtle shift in weight, but it was enough._

 _Gingerly, Jace made his way through his childhood home, passing portraits of his ancestors and documentation of his history. The Morgenstern's had been around a long time, first as German royalty and now as masters of a vast criminal empire. Reaching central foyer, Jace frowned in confusion. He had heard the sound again, but it wasn't coming from the direction of the stairs that lead to his bedroom, it was coming from the private hall that lead to his father's office._

 _Panic seized him, sending his heart into a frenzy and allowing a cold sweat to break out along his back. Clary shouldn't be in there. If his father found out he would have her killed or worse. Jae shivered at the memories that plagued his childhood: whips and blades covered in blood, scars that would never fade. The wrongness of the situation only piqued when he saw the light spilling from beneath the doorway, movement flickered on the other side._

 _As he approached the doorway, Jace heard another noise. A different noise._

 _Was Clary…choking?_

 _That was it, Jace charged the last few steps, throwing open the doors and freezing. The floor fell away, the mahogany desk melted into the blackness. Nothing mattered except for the sight that greeted him:_

 _The love of his life,_

 _Crouching in front of his father,_

 _Her face buried in his lap._

Jace's fist crashed into the punching bag with the unending and undeniable fury of a man with nothing to lose.


End file.
